


you're gonna catch me, you're gonna catch me if i fall

by manycoloureddays



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, references to Canon typical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 09:04:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4781627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manycoloureddays/pseuds/manycoloureddays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If they couldn’t hold themselves together, they could at least make sure the other didn’t fall apart alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're gonna catch me, you're gonna catch me if i fall

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of feelings about Harper, Miller and Monty, and only a third of them made their way into this fic. 
> 
> thanks as always to Erin for reading over this for me!! 
> 
> title from Parachute by Ingrid Michaelson

Monty jerked awake. He wasn’t sure if it was Harper’s whimpering (only slightly muffled by the fist she’d stuffed into her mouth), or the sharp knee she had just bashed into his kidneys. He yawned, rolling over slowly, trying not to jostle either of their bodies too much. Their return to camp four weeks ago may have spelled the end to the nightmarish days, but the nightmares themselves had yet to fade. Some people had retreated into themselves; Jasper moved through camp alone, shoulders bent with grief, and Clarke hadn’t even made it through the gates. On their first night in ‘Camp Jaha’ (and really, that was one of the biggest insults to the kids who’d been sent down here, as expendable as lab rats. A wonderful kick ‘em while they’re down welcome home) it had only seemed natural for all the escapees who craved the company of comrades to curl up together. In medical, in the hulking remains of the Ark, or in tents that were clearly not big enough to fit them comfortably. And after Monty had spent one sleepless night watching Harper, afraid of what would happen if he shut his eyes, and Harper had screamed herself awake twice, it only seemed natural for them to huddle together. If they couldn’t hold themselves together, they could at least make sure the other didn’t fall apart alone. He snaked the arm he wasn’t lying on around her waist, drawing her closer.          

“Sorry,” she breathed into the space between them, eyes shut tighter than before. He squeezed her hip, just above one of her many scars, and brought their foreheads together.

“Shhh,” he whispered. There had been enough ‘don’t worry’s’ and ‘it’s okay’s’. Sometimes all they needed was permission to fall back to sleep. A promise someone would be watching over them when they did. Harper relaxed into sleep. Neither of them moved an inch.

They had established a routine in the weeks following their return. A routine that had settled into something more; something unfamiliar but welcome, until waking up curled around each other, holding hands, standing side by side with their arms brushing, and their names running together in friends’ mouths, ‘HarperandMonty’, seemed more familiar than anything else in the camp. Monty eventually found himself drifting off to sleep, the warmth radiating from Harper enough to keep out the chill of the turning weather.

 

 ***

 

It felt like minutes later - although judging from the weight to the darkness outside it was more like hours - Monty woke to find Miller sitting on the floor in the corner of their tent pulling off his boots.

“Sorry,” he whispered, catching Monty’s eye. “I tried not to wake you.” Monty shook his head. He rolled onto his back, gently sliding his arm out from under Harper. Flexing his half asleep muscles, he propped himself up on his elbows, and smiled dopily.

“’S fine. Did you only just finish? I thought you were coming back earlier tonight?” Bellamy, Miller, and Monroe had started taking up night shifts; not exactly with the guards but not working against them either. They took it in turns, tagging each other in when the other guards rotated, watching over their own. It made Monty smile into his pillow when he thought about how safe it made him feel, but it also made him want to drag blankets outside and build nests around them. Unfortunately this was neither practical nor possible, what with their insistence on militarised patrolling, and the camp’s general lack of blankets.

“Yeah, but Monroe’s coming down with something. I didn’t want to wake her. I just did her rotation as well.”

“What?” Monty hissed. Miller’s eyebrows leapt, his eyes flashing between Monty and Harper. “What?” Monty asked more quietly.  “Are you trying to run yourself into the ground too? You should have woken someone else. Or let the guards do all the work tonight. It’s freezing out there now. I’m pretty sure winter is well and truly here.” Miller, in the middle of attempting to wrap himself comfortably in the most worn blanket in the tent, jacket on backwards in an attempt to keep the cold off his chest, raised an eyebrow.

“Or,” he said slowly, voice laced with confusion. “I could have done the double shift. Which I did. I’m fine. Go back to sleep Monty.”

“Alright,” he watched the tension leave Miller’s shoulders before collapsing back onto the floor. Miller was still rustling around, attempting to find a comfortable place to sleep. Monty rolled his eyes. “On one condition. And I won’t even mention it in the morning.” The rustling stopped abruptly.

“Go on.” The smile and curiosity in his tone made Monty long for a world where he could keep this Miller; the Miller who smiled easily, never flinched when someone else noticed him holding Harper’s hand, and spent more time coming up with increasingly ridiculous puns with Monty instead of planning wars and reconnaissance and colony building with Bellamy.

“Sleep with us tonight.” Before he could close off, roll over, and pretend he was asleep in the cold, Monty added “it’ll stop you from freezing. You’re not going to be any good to us frozen.” Because if the weeks in Mt Weather had taught Monty anything it was that the best way to convince Miller that something needed to happen was to pretend it was for their good and not his.

Harper had her back to the tent wall and was curled on her side. Monty shifted closer, still on his back, moving her slowly until her head was pillowed against his chest. Satisfied that any movement on his right wouldn’t disturb her he lifted the blankets up for Miller. His eyes darted between them warily before the lure of comfort finally seemed to win.

They lay shoulder to shoulder for what seemed like an hour before Miller finally relaxed. Turning onto his side he tentatively draped his arm across Monty’s stomach, fingers curling protectively around Harper’s wrist, and his face buried in Monty’s shoulder.

 

 ***

 

Miller was still there when he woke the next morning, one arm slung low over Monty’s waist, the other being used as a pillow. Monty smiled, looking down at Harper, who appeared to be dragging herself from sleep. She grinned up at him, and when he craned his neck to kiss her nose her eyes crinkled and she giggled. Miller grunted and rolled over, making Harper giggle again. The cold ground he found himself sprawled on seemed to partially wake him.

“Ugh.”

“Not a morning person Nate?” Harper smirked, leaving Monty to giggle in her stead.

“Uugh” the only verbal reply they received. Then Miller dragged himself up, scrubbed the sleep from his eyes, shoved on his boots, and slung on his jacket. Looking more awake than he had any right to considering his language skills were still limited to zombie mode he turned back to look down at them. “Food?” They nodded, smiling up at him. He nodded back and walked out of the tent.

“Do you think-?” Monty murmured against Harper’s shoulder a few minutes later. “Do you think I-?”

“Think what?” Her words were sleep infused. “Wait, who? Think you what? Huh?” He smiled softly at the crease between her eyebrows and her scrunched up nose. If happiness could be found on Earth, Monty thought, it was in moments like this.

“Do you think it’s okay if I’m happy?” Harper froze. Before she could respond Miller ducked back into the tent, his face dark. They both sat up, Harper leaning her weight onto Monty as she adjusted to the change. His attention focused on Miller, Monty started rubbing her neck working the tension out. “Miller?”

“Apparently you can pick up enough food for an extra person or five if you’re an adult with no history in the Skybox, but for us former delinquents ‘you can never be too sure.’” He rolled his eyes. “We fed ourselves for a month. What do they think I’m going to do with two extra breakfast rations that I can’t do without them?”

“I’m sure we could think of something,” Monty said at the same time Harper suggested “stay in bed with your favourite people all morning?”

“I’m pretty sure Bellamy would call that above and beyond the call of duty,” Miller smirked.

“Oh hardy har har, bluff called Mr Miller, you were all snuggled in when I woke up.” He blushed, and Monty poked the side of Harper’s nose for him. “ _Boys._ ” She sighed heavily, but her eye roll was fond. Then before he was fully conscious of it she was dragging him up with her, shoving a cardigan at him and herding them out of the tent in front of her.

 

 ***

 

On their way across camp they – quite literally – bumped into Jasper. He was walking backwards, finishing a conversation with Raven, and ended up colliding with an incredibly distracted Monty. Jasper ended up sprawled on the ground. Harper and Miller smirked, but Monty went rigid, tension rippling through him, leaving nausea in its wake. This was the closest he’d been to his best friend since he’d told him he couldn’t forgive him.

“Monty?” Harper asked. All she needed was his name. He knew she was worried about his unfinished questions earlier. He shook his head, not quite knowing how to answer her. Jasper lay on the floor blinking up at them, and he wasn’t wearing the look of complete disgust that had been a constant response to Monty’s presence since Mount Weather. He reached down. Jasper clasped his hand and pulled himself up. Their silent bubble in the middle of the bustling camp was beginning to make him edgy.

“We’ll save you a seat,” Miller said, clasping his shoulder. He watched them walk away out of the corner of his eye.

“So, uh, Harper and Miller?” Monty tore his eyes away, blushing.

“What about them?” Jasper’s eyes widened. It was only when he pulled his hand away to run through his hair that Monty realised he’d still been holding it. It was strange, after so many years, for touching Jasper to be something he  _noticed._

“I just meant, are Harper and Miller, you know, together.” Jasper was blushing now too. “But um, maybe I read that wrong?” It was clearly an olive branch of a question. Would telling his best friend about his crush on not one but two of his other friends really begin to wipe out his debt?

“Not really. I’m not sure what’s happening to be perfectly honest, but I think it’s good?” He offered a weak smile that Jasper returned, more bravado filled than Monty’s own.

“Well well well, it sounds like you could use some advice from a more experienced man.” Monty snorted.

“Do you know where Bellamy is?” And just like that he felt something shift. Jasper bumped shoulders with him and it didn’t feel right, not yet. But it felt like something. Like hope; if he could keep putting one foot in front of the other, keep tinkering with Raven, falling asleep with Harper and Miller, navigating the future with Jasper, maybe he could forget that there were children who never got to walk in the sun.

 

***

 

Jasper walked him to breakfast but didn’t stay. Determined not to push, and knowing Jasper wasn’t Harper or Miller’s favourite person, Monty just waved him off. When he turned back he was faced with Harper’s concerned sympathy and Miller’s best poker face.

“That went better than expected,” Harper prompted.

“Yeah. I think we’re going to be okay. I think he might even forgive me one day.” Miller made a frustrated noise, and Monty took a sharp kick to his ankle he’s sure Harper didn’t mean for him. “What?”

“He doesn’t need to ask for forgiveness? For not believing Clarke until it was too late? For leaving Harper out in the corridor without a weapon or backup? For nearly losing you?” If Monty focused on the uncharacteristic emotion breaking Miller’s voice he won’t be able to have this conversation.  

“Maybe he does. Maybe he should attempt to earn our forgiveness. But other than Jasper, all the people I want to ask for forgiveness are dead.”

“That’s not on you. What happened in the mountain is not on you.” Miller sounded so sure that Monty almost let himself believe it. “That was Clarke and Bellamy doing what they had to. Protecting our own.” Monty shook his head. It wasn’t right. Letting Bellamy shoulder all the blame wasn’t right. Clarke left. Monty had to share the burden that was his to share.

“You weren’t  _there_. And if I hadn’t been there, Maya might still be alive.”

“Or she’d be dead along with us.” Images of Harper drained and bruised and not waking up this time, of Raven tortured and broken with no time to heal, of Octavia lying on the cafeteria floor with a bullet in her head, of Miller in chains no longer able to shout. His nightmare family- everyone dead under a mountain that had promised them sanctuary, buried down there with all the others who hadn’t made it. Scenarios where Bellamy hadn’t made it inside, had burned in the explosion, where Clarke hadn’t made it back in, hadn’t made it out in the first place. They were worse than the memories of the unknown dead. He made himself sick.  

“One of these days Monty,” Harper said, reaching out to take his hand, “you’re going to have to stop thinking about the lives that ended and start thinking about the lives you saved. I’m alive because you were there. Miller and Raven and Octavia are alive because  _you_  were there. If it had been anyone else they wouldn’t have been able to do what you did.” She took a deep breath. She wasn’t the girl she had been before the mountain. She wasn’t the girl he’d met in the Skybox. He supposed none of them were. “We’re just kids Monty. Grown up too fast, but still just kids. We’re not Clarke and Bellamy, we’re not the Ark council, we’re not the Wallaces or their creepy doctor. We’re just kids, and we need to protect each other, because no one else is thinking that small.” She squeezed his hand to emphasise her point. “We need to protect each other.” She looked so earnest, so certain that if they were in it together they’d survive. Monty looked at Miller. There was a small proud smile on his face, but the worry, the fear, from earlier was still there too. Monty reached across the table and took his hand as well. Squeezing them both gently he nodded.

“Then we protect each other.”

 

***

 

Eventually they had to leave each other behind. While they weren’t as vital to camp life as they had been at the dropship, they were still expected to pull their weight, to be good little assets to the colony. Monty grinned, remembering Bellamy’s face when Kane had first started talking about assets and colonies. Time did not look favourably on those words. History proved that eventually people would remember those who uttered them as a lesson in how not to behave, while turning around and repeating the action. But he hadn’t been in a position to argue, nor could he without someone – usually Raven – reminding him of his own early leadership style.

When Monty arrived in Raven’s workshop – a generous name for the old storage room she was inhabiting  - he found her arguing with Wick and Sinclair about their plans for water filtration.

“Monty!” She beamed. “Back me up here – “

“What? Why do you get Monty in the divorce? That’s not fair, I knew him first!” Wick cried, winking at Monty.

“Tough shit Wick. Time means nothing when you’ve fought two wars together. Isn’t that right Monty?” He grinned, putting his hands up and backing slowly towards the door.

“Hey now, you can’t make me choose!” Raven grinned wickedly. He was in trouble.

“It’s come to our attention that you’re not very good at choosing.” Wick looked confused. Sinclair looked like he’d rather get back to the argument. “Fortunately for you, some people don’t need you to.” He felt his cheeks heat up again. What was it with people and innuendo today? Raven, clearly deciding to be magnanimous this afternoon, jerked her head at the door, and Wick and Sinclair walked out. That girl had almost too much power, but then again Monty thought, there wasn’t anyone he could think of that was more deserving of it. She stood, leaning against the table, studying him. When it became clear that he wasn’t going to say anything she sighed. “Come into my office,” she smiled, gentler this time, patting the stool next to her. He sat, looking at the plans laid out in front of him.

“Look, Monty, I’m not going to pry if you really don’t want to talk about it. This is me, it’d be far too hypocritical.” She took a deep breath, and like Harper earlier, looked at him like she knew exactly who he was. “But, I have readied more weapons than you have. I’ve built them, loaded them, aimed them. I’ve even pulled the proverbial trigger a couple of times. We’ve all done things we wouldn’t ever contemplate under different circumstances. The only thing you can do now is keep going. You can’t look back, you can’t second guess, and you can’t leave the rest of us to move forward on our own.” He nodded. Because what was he going to say?  _No. You’re wrong. If I look back I’m lost, but if I look forward all I can see are the holes where other people are meant to be?_  He couldn’t. Raven was right. And other than Clarke and Bellamy, Raven was the only one who could really understand what he’d done in that room. When he finally met her eyes she nodded back. “Good.” It sounded like a dismissal, and if he went and found Sinclair he could still be a good little colonial asset before the day was over, so he hopped off the stool, gave Raven a quick hug, and headed for the door before she could object to the affection. “And Monty,” she called, before he made it out.

“Yeah?”

“Part of moving forward is letting yourself be happy.  _They_ make you happy. Anyone can see that.” And with that she turned back to the plans, muttering about ‘damned impractical engineers’.

 

***

 

If he was allowed to be happy why did he feel guilty? He spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon doing all the jobs Sinclair had for him, pocketing spare parts and tools for use later on. Harper dropped by on her way back from medical where she’d be having daily check ups until Jackson was happy with her improvement, and he waved to Monroe when she walked past. The sun was just beginning to fall behind the mountains, throwing the light in ways Monty thought he would always find new and exciting and wonderful, when Bellamy came to talk to him. There was an urge to respond to the greeting with ‘what can I do for you’. Monty knew most of the remaining 100 felt it too. They would follow Bellamy anywhere. Even if it was darker and stranger than where they were. If he called on them they would answer, he had earned it. But along with that he’d earned a reputation for war. He would protect them all, lay down his life for them, but that was all tied up in fighting, so their response was as well. Monty knew Bellamy resented that, because now he didn’t know whether he could trust that their fire-forged, battle-worn loyalty extended into friendship. Monty knew that the same way he knew Raven would never believe that they loved her unconditionally, whether she was building or destroying in their name, whether she was out of commission or in the thick of it, they would love her and she’d never believe them. Monty knew both those things the same way he knew that Clarke thought the continued happiness of her people hinged on them never having to acknowledge the darkness she’d stood in when she’d saved them. Monty knew, because Monty felt like he didn’t deserve the warmth of Harper and Miller, the steady camaraderie of Raven, the security of Jasper, and the splendid light from the setting sun when there were people whose breath he had taken away. So Monty didn’t ask what he could do for Bellamy when he called his name. He just smiled and waved him over.

“How are you doing?” Bellamy leant against the side of the Ark that Monty was working on, scanning the camp. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to you since –“

“Yeah.” Neither of them wanted to say it. One of them had to. They owed it to the kids. “Since Mount Weather.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy wiped a hand across his face. He looked tired; his shoulders struggled under the invisible visible weight of everything he’d done to protect the people he cared about. Someone had to help him carry it. That someone wasn’t here anymore. “Yeah.”

“I’m okay,” Monty started. But no, he wasn’t okay, and Bellamy knew he wasn’t okay, and someone had to help Bellamy carry it. “No, actually, I’m not okay. I’m not okay with what we did, I’m not okay living in a world where what we did can be justified because of what they did, and I’m not okay with what they did. That applies to all possible groups that ‘they’ can apply to.” Bellamy smirked, just a small uptick on the left hand side of his face. Monty would help him carry it. “ But are any of us?”

“No. I don’t suppose we are.” Bellamy kept looking at the camp, and Monty kept working on the panel of wiring. They worked in silence for a while. Then, “I don’t blame her you know.” Monty put the tools down, sat with his back to the metal.

“Don’t you?”

“No.” Bellamy slid down so he was sitting in the dirt too, legs stretched out in front of them. “Octavia says I should. Lincoln says I shouldn’t. Raven told me that I should figure out if I do or not on my own. And I don’t. We work better as a team, but if she needs time then she should have time. Raven fixes her head when she’s working, Octavia  _does_ things, I apparently ‘intensely look after people’, and she needs time to think.” Monty nodded. It made sense.

“You know, in a world that isn’t quite this fucked up,” Bellamy snorted, “you’d made a really good teacher.” Bellamy ducked his head, looking pleased.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “What do  _you_ need Monty?” He shrugged. Except he knew. Of course he knew. He smiled.

 

 

***

 

When Miller ducked into their tent and they all settled in for the night he didn’t hesitate before dropping down next to Harper and curling an arm across her waist to pull Monty closer still.

“I knew we were your favourites,” Harper whispered, snuggling as much as she could. Miller squeezed Monty’s hip.

“Yeah, yeah, just don’t tell anyone, okay?” Monty could hear the smile in his voice.

“Whatever you say Nate,” he whispered. He could do this. One day at a time, with this to look forward to. He could do this.


End file.
